The Pain Not Yet Over
by L1t4
Summary: Is Larn, the new hobbit, a kind hearted tween? Or does he have malicious intentions with Frodo and Sam's relationship? Frodo is becoming ill, he has found a ring that he believes is the One Ring and has developed mysterious bruises.


Town Gossip 

I need complete ignorance here, but convincing.

"-And then he just returns, acting like he had never left in the first place!" the elder hobbit said. He took a sip of ale, a much needed refreshment after his long story.

"It ain't right. None of it! Just when we thought Hobbiton was ridded of him he shows back up just like that cracked uncle of his did," said Sandyman, the Hobbiton miller.

"Excuse me, sir," said the youngest of the three hobbits. "But if Frodo Baggins and those other hobbits hadn't returned, those ruffians might still be running about the place."

"Nonsense!" said the elder hobbit a little louder than he had intended. "Don't you see, Larn? That's the whole reason those ruffians showed up in the first place. If that Frodo hadn't went out where he didn't belong informing all the outlandish folk of our whereabouts those ruffians wouldn't have come."

The young hobbit nodded his head with a new understanding, "Oh."

"Aye," agreed Sandyman. "Remember when Bilbo went off where he didn't belong? That's when all the queerness started. When he came back people started talk of seeing elves and walking trees on the borders of our land."

"You've seen elves, sir?" asked Larn, unable to contain himself.

"No a 'course not. Elves aren't real. That Baggins just put the wrong ideas in many heads. Making them think they're seeing things that aren't there."

"It ain't natural. Stirring up imaginations like so, nothing but trouble came of it."

"And let us hope no more comes."

The once intense conversation lowed to whispers, as the Gaffer approached the table. As he took a seat beside the other three hobbits all gossip was silenced.

x-x-x-x

Frodo stood on the tip of his toes, stretching his short arms high into the air while his hand felt around the top shelf for a mug. All that came in contact with his hand, however, was dust. A year's collection of dust had packed on top of the shelf while he had been out on his adventure to destroy the Ring.

"Ah!" he said at last, grasping the handle. He began to step down from the step stool but returned back to his reaching position after hearing the door of Bag End creak open. He began his search for a second mug.

After hearing Sam's incoherent muttering he called, "I'm in here, Sam."

"It's mighty cold out there this morning, Mr.Frodo," stated Sam, walking into the doorway to join Frodo.

"It is," agreed Frodo. "Quite unusual this time of year. Here, this tea should warm you up."

Frodo slid Sam a mug, and they both took a seat at the wooden table. It was silent for a few moments. The two friends hadn't a need to start a conversation, for being in each other's presence was enough. Frodo couldn't help the small smile that began to form on his lips. He was finally home. He was happy to at last take comfort in the warmth of Bad End, as opposed to the sharp rocks and fickle climate he was forced to travel in.

Sam, noticing his smile, furrowed his brow in confusion. "What's got you smiling like that, Mr. Frodo? It's been too long since I've seen your smile."

"Oh, it's nothing. I suppose I'm just happy is all, happy to be back…home."

"Well, of course you are! I'm rightfully glad to be back too, sir." Sam smiled and sighed in content. "Finally home, it feels good don't it? Sleepin' on a soft bed with feather pillows. Waking up and being able to eat breakfast. Real food, mind you. And the warm showers, gardening, birds chirping, smelling the roses, taking strolls in the morning, watching the sunrise-"

Frodo chuckled in amusement, causing Sam to realize he was getting carried away. "-and laughing," Frodo added. "It feels good to laugh again."

Sam returned Frodo's smile. Yes, it was good to laugh again, and to hear Frodo laugh. During the adventure, Sam couldn't recall a time that Frodo had laughed or smiled. Sure, he would try and fool Sam with a hollow laugh or would force himself a fake smile, but it was never convincing enough to trick his servant. During those troubling times he would often recall what it was like before, when Frodo would always engage in interesting tales with him to keep him company while gardening, and the way he used to laugh and smile at the simple pleasures in life.

'The Ring is destroyed, and now everything can go back like it used to be…the way it was supposed to be. Mr. Frodo wasn't meant to endure so much, it just wasn't right!' thought Sam.

Suddenly, Sam cleared his throat and forced himself to get rid of the darkness that threatened to engulf his mind. It was all over now. He drained his mug and slid it forward a couple of inches. "You'll be at the Green Dragon tonight?"

"I haven't forgotten about tonight, and you needn't remind me. How old do you think I am, that I would forget such a thing?" Frodo said, as he picked up the empty mugs to place in the sink. He turned back around with a playful smile.

"You're not old, sir. And you've not missed a single night that we've got together," said Sam. He rose from the table and snapped his coat across his shoulders.

Frodo nodded in agreement and walked Sam to the door. "Then again, you've made sure I hadn't forgotten each night we've planned to get together. Perhaps that could be the reason?"

"And each time I remind you, you say 'of course I remember! How could I forget such a night?' Now, I know you're not one to lie, Mr. Frodo."

"Well, I'm glad that's settled," said Frodo with a laugh.

"I'll see you tonight, Mr. Frodo. Now you keep warm."

Frodo nodded. "You too, Sam."

Sam quickly slipped out the door and shut it, denying the cruel wind that wanted to devour the warmth of Bag End. Frodo turned around and began tarrying down the hall, unsure what to occupy himself with until tonight arrived. When he came to his room he stopped and peered into it. He placed his hand on the doorframe and sighed. There it was, lying on his desk. The book that once provided him with comfort and excitement when he was so young and so ignorant. The book Bilbo had treasured so dearly that he made sure no one tampered with it. It was his pride and joy. It was the Red Book.

The more he looked at it the more threatening it became. Bilbo had wanted Frodo to write his own tale in its crisp pages, so it could never be forgotten. What Bilbo didn't know was Frodo wanted it to be forgotten. He dreaded having to experience again the terrible days, all he wanted was to forget and never remember. Which was something that could only be wished, for he would have to relive his worst nightmares for his uncle, for the book.

"There is no point in delaying. The sooner I write it, the sooner I can put it all behind me." Frodo reluctantly stepped toward his desk.

Minutes could have passed or it could have been centuries. Too enthralled with writing, Frodo hadn't a clue. Despite the chill wind from the window, sweat trickled down his temples. His hand was cramped for not having written in many months. A bolt of pain suddenly shot up his arm, pulling him out of his trance.

"Ouch…" he said, massaging his cramped arm. He took the sudden spurt of pain as a sign that he had pushed himself. He curiously filtered through all that he had written; countless pages were filled with ink. Satisfied with all that he had accomplished he stepped away from the desk in desperate need of fresh air.

Frodo took a step outside of Bag End and allowed the sweet aroma of flowers to fill his nostrils. The burnt orange sun was beginning to descend behind the Shire. The sky was still lit up, but just barely. It was a beautiful sight, one that he could be intrigued with for hours.

"Now where is that Gamgee fellow!" a voice came.

Frodo looked around in confusion.

A woman emerged from the shadows and walked up to the gate. Her gray hair was tousled atop her head and her hands where planted high on her hips.

Frodo began walking toward the gate. "I beg your pardon?" he asked, knowing what she had said but curious as to what she had meant.

"That Gamgee, is he up here?" She repeated.

"Well, no. Why?"

"I had a feeling he mighta been up here, he spends more time on yer' garden than he does with his others!" She said furiously.

"Is there something wrong?"

The elderly woman placed a hand on the wooden fence and narrowed her eyes on Frodo. "Yes there's somethin' wrong! He was to be at my house three hours ago, THREE! I have my cousin comin' in two hours. That garden was to be done before they came!" The woman turned back around and started down the path once again, "That boy is goin' to be in some trouble. He'll be lucky not to be fired for this one!"

Frodo quickly opened the gate and rushed after her. "Mrs. Burdo, wait! I'm sure Sam is just caught up in something, he's never forgotten before. You can't blame him for a single time." Mrs. Burdo continued walking, ignoring Frodo's pleading.

"Please, don't fire him Mrs. Burdo. His reputation…he doesn't deserve that."

"You go back, now, this ain't none your business to be meddlin' in. I told him this was an important night! Did he listen?"

"Allow me to do it then if it's so important, that is of course if you don't fire Sam."

Mrs. Burdo stopped in her tracks, obviously amused and surprised by the offer. She turned around to face Frodo. Then an unexpected burst of laughter exploded from her mouth. "A Baggins? Working in a garden? Tell me Mr. Baggins, do you devote your life to be as queer as you can?" The hunched woman walked away, caught up in a fit of laughter.

"I'll pay you," said Frodo, surprised with himself as much as Mrs. Burdo was.

Mrs. Burdo swiftly turned around, "Pay me? To work in my garden? What's this all about? What's the big deal about getting this done?"

Frodo waved a hand, dismissing the string of questions. "I'm just trying to help Sam out."

"You helping out your gardener?" She shook her head disapprovingly. "How much money are we talking about here? I ain't gonna let you ruin my garden for anything cheap!"

Frodo held up a finger, signaling he would be right back, and then dashed into Bag End. Once he was in his room he fell to his knees and raised the top of the trunk in a frantic search for his stash of money. Sam had always been there for Frodo, even if it meant death. He would have died for him, and he proved it many times. He was strong and brave and put Frodo before himself numerous times.

He recalled the time when he was recovering in Minas Tirith; he had been sick and exhausted from the quest. Sam had sat beside him on the bed and rubbed his hand, telling him he would get better and to just hang in there. It was absurd! Sam had walked with Frodo, been through the same events and yet even after everything, when he should have been resting after his weary adventure...he didn't. He stayed with Frodo to make sure he was tended too, despite his own exhaustion. Now was his chance to help Sam out in his time of need, even if it was something as simple as tending to a garden.

'After all, how hard could gardening be? I've watched Sam for many years tending to Bag End's,' he thought rushing out to the path with a handful of coins.

"Would this suffice?" Frodo asked lifting his hands out to the baffled hobbit.

Mrs. Burdo nodded her head quickly, as if afraid Frodo would change his mind about the price. She quickly went to snatch the money but Frodo drew his hands back.

"You mustn't tell anyone of this. I'm paying you to keep this quiet as well."

"Don't want anyone to know the Master of the Hill has been dirtying up his clean hands, ey? I understand." She reached out for the money and examined it as she turned around.

Frodo tagged along behind her, allowing the ignorant woman to think what she wanted. Of course, he didn't care if people knew he was 'dirtying his hands'. He had been seen in worse situations than simply working in a garden. No, it wasn't that. He knew if she hadn't paid her to keep it quiet, she would have blabbed it to her family and it would be the talk of the town for many weeks. 'I want a peaceful night at the Green Dragon, not to be badgered by questions of my doings in Mrs. Burdo's garden.'

"I have your word this will be kept quiet?"

"Yes, yes. Now, pick up your step, Master Baggins!"

Finally arriving at the home, Frodo stood there overwhelmed. 'Where am I to start?' The garden was filled with flowers and bushes, and as far as his untrained eyes could see, nothing needed to be tended too.

Noticing Frodo's uneasiness, Mrs. Burdo picked up a pair of clippers from the shed and made her way back to Frodo. "Here you are," she said handing the clippers to him. "You be careful with those hedges. I don't want them too short. And make sure you pick up all these weeds around the step stones too. Oh and these seeds, you plant those around here," she pulled out a handful of seeds from her apron and cupped them in Frodo's hand.

"Yes, of course," Frodo said, as if it was Mrs. Burdo's directions were obvious.

x-x-x-x

Hours later Sam raced up toward number three Bagshot Row. He quickly pushed open the large door and planted the groceries to the nearest suitable spot.

"Sam, my boy, what took you so long! Mrs. Burdo has been up here in a fuss, yelling that you aren't tending to her garden as you ought to," the Gaffer tapped his pipe on his lips, awaiting an explanation.

"Sorry, Gaffer. The market…I couldn't find anything. They sure have changed things around quite a bit…since I've been away." Sam said breathlessly, massaging his sore arm from carrying the heavy weight.

"She was in an angry state, all right. We can't handle you losing a job. Money's been awfully tight around here since you and the Baggins went off."

Sam sighed, unsure how to handle the situation. He knew Mrs. Burdo had told her it was a big night, because her relatives were coming to visit her and admire the garden. The relatives, more than likely, had already arrived.

Noticing Sam's inner contemplation, the Gaffer said, "I know it ain't proper to blame you. Musta been busier than a bee's nest, that market. What with night drawing close and the cold air settling in. Standing around won't solve nothin' though. You get out there and apologize, whatever happens will happen."

"Thank you," Sam said as he rushed out the door. "This wouldn't be so hard with the Gaffer's understanding."

Arriving at Mrs. Burdo's smial his pace slowed almost to a halt once seeing a familiar figure slouched in the middle of Mrs. Burdo's garden. It was almost too hard to believe. Frodo? Maybe it was a trick of the shadows? Sam narrowed his eyes on the figure. No, it was Frodo. He was sitting upon a step stone and patting the dirt beside him. 'This isn't right at all. He doesn't belong in the dirt like that!'

Sam moved closer to his master. "Mr. Frodo? What're you-?"

"Oh, Sam! You startled me." Frodo rubbed his hands together to free them from loose dirt. He looked up at Sam. "Mrs. Burdo came up to Bag End in search for you. You weren't tending to her garden. So…I thought I'd try and help out." Frodo gave a nervous laugh and looked back down at his dirty hands.

"Mr. Frodo…" Sam stood speechless. "You didn't have to do this. I know you mean well but you don't belong out here in this cold. Without proper clothing, too! You must be freezing." Sam unbuttoned his cloak and placed it around Frodo's shoulders."

"Sam!" Frodo laughed. "I'm alright, really. Though, I guess it was quite silly of me to walk out without a cloak, I must have been in quite a rush."

"I'll never forgive myself if you catch a cold," he said, helping Frodo to his feet.

"Sam I meant to help you out, not cause you stress. I hope you're not disappointed in the trimming of the bushes, either. It's much harder than I had expected."

"Oh, I'm sorry Mr. Frodo. You had me caught up in a worry. No, the bushes look beautiful! That was more than I could have asked for. You finished everything?"

"Yes. I just finished planting the last of the daises," he said, signaling his hand at the sand before him, the finished work.

Sam inwardly laughed. Frodo had packed the dirt so tight he doubted the daises would have a chance to grow up through it. 'I'll just have to loosen that up tomorrow.' He looked up at Frodo who was waiting anxiously for a comment, "You did a wonderful job, Mr. Frodo! Thank you."

"I'm surprised I didn't ruin your garden. You've put my mind at ease, thank you."

"Even if you had ruined it, sir, I wouldn't have been mad. It's the thought that counts, and this is the most thoughtful thing anyone's done for me."

Mrs. Burdo stepped out of the door. "Ah! There you are."

Sam quickly turned around. "Mrs. Burdo, I'm sorry. I was at the market and I couldn't find anything. It took longer than-"

"Put your mind at ease, boy. It ain't caused any trouble with Mr. Baggins here to aid you. He's done a good job here. You two get off home now," Mrs. Burdo said with a smile.

Sam was oblivious to why Mrs. Burdo was really smiling, but he knew something was off. Never before had Mrs. Burdo smiled to him, she had always griped at him and whacked him with her walking stick when he was but a boy. But he paid no heed to it; he had more important matters to worry about. "Come on, Mr. Frodo. Let's get you warmed up before you catch a cold."

A shiver ran down Frodo's spine as he stepped inside the warm comforts of Bag End. He rubbed his hands together roughly to warm them up. Stifling a yawn, he found himself a seat in the kitchen, beside the hearth. A few embers still glowed in the fireplace, casting a dull light across his face.

Sam started a fire and hung the teakettle above the small fire. He grabbed the thickest blanket he could find from the closet and placed it around Frodo's lap.

"I try and save you trouble by doing the garden, and yet I seem to have caused you more," Frodo said, opening his palms to the fire.

"You know this ain't no trouble for me, Mr. Frodo," Sam placed another chair in front of the fire alongside Frodo, waiting for the kettle to boil. "I hope she didn't threaten you, and make you feel like you had to do the garden. Or worse, whack you with her walking stick."

"No, it was worse than all you have listed. She threatened to fire you. Your name would have been replaced with mine amongst all the gossiping. Everyone speaking of a hobbit losing his job, especially Samwise Gamgee the wonderful gardener! Imagine that."

Sam shuddered at the thought. Just when his Gaffer needed him the most, no doubt his wage would go down with that sort of talk. "I'm not sure how to rightfully thank you-"

"Please, don't Sam. You deserved it after all you've done for me. A thank you is hardly even needed."

Sam noticed Frodo's hands in front of the fire. His right hand, the one that was once swathed with pearly white bandages wasn't very white anymore. It was now a light brown and there was a growing hole at the palm. "We best get that cleaned up."

"What cleaned up?" Frodo asked curiously.

"Your hand, sir."

"That's quite alright, Sam." Sam noticed Frodo burry his arms beneath the blanket, which caused him to worry.

"It still hurts?" he inquired.

"No, it's not that. It's just; I remembered we were to go to the Green Dragon tonight. We might as well be going now, before it gets too late and cold out," said Frodo, standing up and placing the blanket on the chair.

"But the tea, sir?" asked Sam, rather confused.

Frodo took the teakettle and placed it on the table. "We'll have it later, come now and let us be off," He looked back at Sam with a reassuring smile.

x-x-x-x

It was the time of the day the Green Dragon was the most crowded. The room was clouded with smoke and the scent of ale, as the hobbits, after a long day, sat and drank and puffed on their pipes.

"Oy, get off the counter!" called Rosie to one of the hobbits who seemed to have drank a little too much.

"Let the lad dance," someone called from the crowd. "He's just having a bit of fun."

"Yah, lemme dance!" agreed the drunken hobbit.

Rosie shook her head, in both disapproval and amusement. "You can dance over there then on that table. I don't need you kicking dirt in drinks I'm serving!"

"Alright, alright."

Frodo and Sam walked into the noisy room and took a seat in their usual spot. "Well, hello lads!" Rosie called making her way over to them. "What can I do for you?"

"Just two ales, how's it tonight?"

"Everyone's pretty hyped up, more than they usually are. It's been pretty busy the past couple of days," said Rosie as she surveyed the room with dancing eyes. "Well, it's good to see you two again. I'll be getting those ales now." Rosie had to hold her tongue. She wanted desperately to ask where the two hobbits had been all year. But she knew it wouldn't be right prying into their life like that, especially considering the rest of Hobbiton was doing it enough for her and then some.

Rosie returned with their drinks and set them on the table. "Let Elsa know if you need anything else. I'm going to have a little break," she said with a sigh of relief, and then disappeared into the crowd

Sam turned his attention back to Frodo. "What?" he asked, but he knew why Frodo was smiling.

"Oh, nothing. Just wondering when you're going to talk to her."

"I just did talk to her," he said, unable to conjure a better response.

"I mean, really talk to her, Sam. Go on, I know you want to. She's on her break after all."

"No, no. I couldn't do that."

"Sure you can. I'll just be sitting right here, really. That's the reason she said she was on her break, after all. She wants you to join her."

Sam looked through the crowd at Rosie. Her curls were bouncing around as she began talking excitedly to someone. Sam sighed, "Are you sure about this?"

"Of course I am."

"All right then, Mr. Frodo. If you say so," Sam took a sip out of his mug and stood. Trying to muster as much confidence as he could as he made his way toward Rosie.

Frodo rested his back on the wood and sighed. He was glad Sam left to speak with Rosie. He knew he wouldn't be of very good company tonight, for his mind was elsewhere. He closed his eyes and tried to rest his throbbing temples. But just then a voice came, causing him to snap his eyes open.

"Well, hey there Frodo!"

"Oh, hello…have we met?"

"Nope! That's why I came over here to introduce myself. You don't seem very busy," the hobbit said, taking a seat across from Frodo. "I'm Larn, I just moved here a few months ago."

"Hello, Larn," said Frodo, and after a minute of silence tried his best to sound interested, asking, "Where did you live before here?"

"Not much fun there, heh. I thought maybe you and me could be friends, you could tell me all about these I things /I ."

"Things? What things?"

"You know, all these things people are talking about. That wizard, you and leaving the Shire only to pop back up again like old Bilbo. Oh and the gold! You really have gold stashed up there? Don't worry I won't tell anyone," asked Larn, excited for an answer.

"What is there to tell?" asked Frodo, a little annoyed. "Yes, we both left the Shire only to 'pop back up again' as you say."

"Well, what'd you leave for in the first place?"

"What does it matter?"

"I see you don't want to talk about that. I understand."

Frodo looked up at Larn, thankful he had took the hint.

"You don't want to talk about your leaving and returning. But could you tell me if elves are real?"

"Yes, they're real. There are many things out there that you wouldn't believe, even if your most trustful source had informed you. That's why there's really no point in telling of my whereabouts and what I saw."

"I'd believe you, sir. What do the elves look like?"

"They're more beautiful than anything in the world. Their face is fair and always joyous and-." Frodo came to a sudden stop as he took notice of the angry man behind Larn.

Noticing Frodo's face, Larn looked behind him. "Oh dad! This is Fro-"

"No you don't! Larn you get out back at yer table this instant!" the angry man said pulling his son up by the collar and shoving him along. "I ain't letting you fill my boy's head with that nonsense. You stay away from him, you hear? One insane lad is enough, don't you go messing with other's heads."

"I didn't-" started Frodo; his mouth was open but more so from shock than actually trying to talk. He wanted to defend himself but nothing came out. His mind was blank. Just as the angry father went back to his table, Frodo's attention wavered. He suddenly realized the hushed whispers around him and the eyes that seemed to rise from the table to stare at him with wonder.

Frodo stood up and walked out of the tavern to escape the prying eyes. He stood before the door confused, unsure what to do next. His hand was on his forehead, as if easing himself through the recent event as he replayed it in his mind. As he looked up from the ground a glint of light caught his eye far off in the grass. What had that come from? It would have to be something shiny in order to catch the light. Filled with curiosity, Frodo made his way over to where he had seen the glint of light.

Before he knew it he was there. And as he looked down at his feet, he couldn't believe what was there. It was a golden Ring.


End file.
